


Scientific Curiosity

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Bickering, Gen, Secrets, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Sera is a mage. She is a mage who doesn't seem to know she's a mage. Dorian will get to the bottom of this very annoying mystery or die trying. (He's obviously being dramatic... mostly).





	Scientific Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FolkAstronaut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolkAstronaut/gifts).

> This is a lovely AU from FolkAstronaut from the Dragon Age Discord! Thanks for letting me play around with it <3
> 
> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!

"Fuck off, stop staring at me you weirdo."

Malika Cadash started nervously, one hand coming up to conceal the heavy bands tattooed on her face reflexively, before she spotted Sera and who she was talking to.

"Darling Sera, I'm not sure I know what you mean," Dorian drawled. His voice suggested he was relaxed, but his muscles were tight against the rock he was using as a table, ready to fling himself backwards at a moment’s notice. 

Carefully he tipped the black powder back into the bottle and placed everything back into the box resting at his side, lid snapping closed.

"You keep staring at me. The rest o' those magicky arseholes do it with their twirling staffs and weird..." Sera broke off to wiggle her fingers in the air, pads blackened and calloused.

"Magic?" Dorian supplied, 

"Yeah!" Sera nodded, plucking an arrow from the quiver next to her and twirling it in the air. Dorian watched her intently, reminiscent of one of large cats that sprawled across the higher boughs in the Emerald Graves. 

The elf didn't seem to notice the slight distortion in the air as the arrow passed through it, time bending around the bright red fletching, but Dorian did.

"There you go again!"

"Sera please," Malika asked, hands pressed to her ears at Sera's high voice, half ducked behind Varric reflexively.

"Sorry Inky," Sera called, voice noticeably softer, waiting until Varric had drawn the dwarf's attention away once again before sticking her tongue out at Dorian, face scrunching up into a mess of wrinkles.

"Why d'you keep staring?"

"Do you honestly not know?" Dorian asked, watching the distorted spinning of the arrow once again, gaze flicking between that and Sera's face as the elf frowned. She stared at him for a long moment, and Dorian knew that look well. 

She was sizing him up once again, her sharp eyes tapping on the curved knives strapped to his hips, the box of potions that mimicked magic at his side, and the bracers at his wrists that concealed razor sharp blades. As best he knew, they all were unaware of the retractable knives hidden in his boots, the deceptively thin wire that wound through his heavy amulet chain, or the single projectile hidden in one of his many glittering rings; but he couldn't be sure.

The other Altus had looked at him the same way, the same barely masked suspicion that soon dissolved into contempt when they realised who he was: the only son of Magister Pavus, a soporati. And here was an elf who claimed to be unaware of her magic, treat the power he had longed for with such disdain it ached. 

At least Dalish made a game out of it, dancing her way out of pointed questions with such ease that it reminded Dorian of talking with Maevaris, the same feeling of competition, the same rush in his blood that magic users described when he caught her in a corner, only backing down when Iron Bull would tut and shake one finger, grin almost splitting his face in two.

“What do I not know?” Sera snarled, the air around her almost seeming to crackle, both dwarves head’s snapping up at the pull of the Fade, Bianca unholstered and knocked almost before Dorian can blink.

“That you have magic,” Dorian said simply. He was tense, too tense, muscles in his legs beginning to twitch from the constant state of heightened anticipation. His palms were clammy, the urge to simply hold his knives, to feel the comfortable weight to counterbalance the strangely foggy adrenaline in his system, but he couldn’t.

If there was one thing Dorian was familiar with fighting, it was angry mages. Between himself and Felix, they had made it into something of an artform, both the only children of Altus’, both soporati, and both proud of who they were. Sera was an unknown factor, something Dorian longed to poke at and prod until he could predict her reactions, but there was something unknowable about her.

Sera gaped at him, brow furrowed, for what felt like eternity, before she burst into hysterical peals of laughter, dropping backwards to clutch at her sides. The arrow hung in the air for one second, then two, before it dropped silently to the grass.

“You think I have magic? Nah,” Sera chuckled, pushing herself back into a seated position, crossing her legs to rest her elbows on them. She plucked the dropped arrow from the ground without looking at it, twirling it through the air once more as she shook her head, shoulders quaking with barely concealed laughter.

Dorian glanced sideways towards Cadash, meeting her shrug with one of his own, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes, smearing his kohl even further. 

Mages; mad the lot of them.

“Get ready!” Malika called; her voice high with fright as the Anchor flared violently, covering the temporary campsite in a wash of sickly green. The sound of a Rift tearing open as Solas had predicted, smug like a cat who’d successfully stolen the cream and several packets of fine catnip, was unmistakeable. Dorian drummed his fingers over his prepared vials, dimly aware of Sera knocking an arrow next to him, the elf unconsciously or not slowing down the time around her as demons fell out of the smaller hole in the sky.

Dorian’s knives flashed as he spun, using the time distortion to strike the demons faster than they could retaliate, flames spitting into the air around him but never burning his skin. Sera’s arrows flew true, hitting her mark as she raced around the campsite, leaping slightly too high, moving slightly too fast. Did she truly not know?

The last demon screamed as it fell, tears rolling down Cadash’s cheeks as she closed the Rift, and Dorian returned to watching Sera. He would find out what was going on, he had to.


End file.
